


I Need My Girl

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-23 00:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30047142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: Jackson spices up April's night by sending her a few drunk texts... drunk texts that add to other drunk activities that neither expected, but both desperately craved.
Relationships: Jackson Avery/April Kepner
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	I Need My Girl

**Author's Note:**

> so with the epi summary of next week being something about jackson and link and jo playing a drinking game, i was inspired by my lovely twitter mutuals to write something like this... especially given the fact that APRIL IS COMING BACK!!!! enjoy, and don't forget to review!!

More than once a week, I fall asleep next to Harriet while reading her a bedtime story. Tonight, she chose ‘The Kissing Hand,’ and her eyes were closed before I turned the last page. To be honest, I didn’t last much longer. 

I’m not sure how long I’ve been sleeping when a buzzing sound wakes me up. I open my eyes slowly, blinking hard at the ceiling where the dim yellow light shines, and realize the sound is coming from my phone that’s resting on her nightstand. 

I reach over, if only to get the noise to stop. Harriet isn’t a super light sleeper, but she’s not a heavy one, either. She falls right between me and her dad on the sleep scale. I’ll wake up at any given sound, and he used to be able to sleep through a hurricane. 

Speaking of Jackson, it’s his name that shows up on my screen. I have a few messages from him, spanning from just now to about five minutes ago. It’s a little past 9, not too late, but later than we normally text. I open the thread right away, hoping that nothing bad has happened. 

**RECEIVED, 9:04pm** - Hey you up

**RECEIVED, 9:05pm** \- Heyyyyy

**RECEIVED, 9:07pm** \- Yo up? 

**RECEIVED, 9:10pm** \- Heyy

Puzzled, I narrow my eyes at the screen and wonder what’s going on. He seems fine - at least, not in any imminent danger, but something is off. Texting with Jackson isn’t usually curt or anything, we’re too familiar with each other for that, but when we communicate over the phone there’s usually a reason for it. Not just idle chit-chat. Something either to do with Harriet or a question about work. Most of the time, small talk doesn’t even happen. We’re past all that. 

**SENT, 9:12pm** \- Hey. Sorry, fell asleep with H. Up now. Everything okay? 

I don’t have to wait long for a response. In fact, the little typing bubble pops up right away, which makes me think that he was waiting for me to reply, watching the screen. 

**RECEIVED, 9:12pm** \- Thinin about you. Cant get mygirl off my midn 

My eyes widen and my eyebrows shoot up. His girl?  _ His _ girl, meaning me? I don’t know much about Jackson’s romantic life anymore - a luxury that leaving Grey Sloan afforded me - so I can’t help but wonder if he thinks these texts are going to someone else. 

**SENT, 9:13pm** \- J, it’s April. 

Once again, the bubble pops up instantly. 

**RECEIVED, 9:13pm** \- I know. What other girl do oyou think Ihave ? 

I sit up suddenly, inhaling as I go. My face gets hot as I look at my phone, the phone that almost slips out of my grip as my hands get too sweaty to hold on. Next to me, Harriet shifts and rolls onto her side to face the wall. In her bed is not the right place to have this conversation with Jackson, so I kiss her ear, turn off the big light, and shut the door as I head into the hallway. 

**SENT, 9:15pm** \- Are you drunk?

The bubble pops up, then disappears. Pops up again, then disappears once more. Apparently, he’s having trouble typing - that gives me the answer I’m looking for. 

**RECEIVED, 9:17pm** \- Nahhhhhhhh jus a few dep 

**RECEIVED, 9:17pm** \- Notl ike Ihave to beu drunk to think about you

**RECEIVED, 9:18pm** \- Youre so fucking esexy do oyu know i never got over you and that fuckingb dbody? 

**RECEIVED, 9:18pm** \- I mhard right ow

With a blush still on my face, I head downstairs to the kitchen and reread the words he typed - or, rather, tried to type. Still, no matter the typos, his message comes across loud and clear. 

For the entire time I’ve known him, Jackson has always been an affectionate drunk. When we were interns, he would plant kisses on my cheeks and tell me how beautiful I was, insisting that we sleep in the same bed so we could cuddle and I’d be there to tickle his back. When we were friends with benefits, there was no sex in the world like the drunk sex we had. As a married couple, after one too many, we’d relax on the couch with his head in my lap and, without fail, he’d fall asleep on me. Always so close, never giving me any physical space until he sobered up. It’s just the way he is. 

Because I know all this, I don’t want to take advantage of it. I miss him too, yes. But I don’t want this to be something that both of us will regret tomorrow. 

**RECEIVED, 9:21pm** \- Youtherin may

**SENT, 9:21pm** \- Repeat? 

**RECEIVED, 9:21pm** \- Haha. Tried to say youthiere babe? 

I take a deep breath and open the fridge, pulling out the wine that I told myself I’d save for a special occasion. What special occasion, I’m not sure now and I wasn’t then either. But I can think of no better time than the present to pop it open. 

**SENT, 9:22pm** \- Yes I’m here. I just don’t want you to do anything that you’re going to regret. Should you be texting me these things? 

I pour myself half a glass of wine as I watch him type. 

**RECEIVED, 9:23pm** \- Idon’t know should I? You tell me……. Yourenot something I couldregret. How coil I regret you? 

“Fuck it,” I say under my breath, and fill up the rest of the glass with wine. I take a big sip, downing half of it, then give myself a refill. 

**SENT, 9:24pm** \- I don’t regret you either. I never have. 

**RECEIVED, 9:25pm** \- I really miss you so much

I sit down on the couch, cross-legged, and flash a sad little smile at the screen. Missing him isn’t on the forefront of my mind every single day, but I do get a pang of it every once in a while. It’s reassuring to know that he does, too. 

**SENT, 9:26pm** \- I miss you too. A lot. 

**RECEIVED, 9:26pm** \- Know what Im iss the most about your fucking hot body? 

Here comes the heat again. It washes over my chest, up my neck, all the way to the tips of my ears. I take a huge sip of wine and that only perpetuates the feeling. 

I can’t help but urge him on. I’m in too deep now. Both of us are. 

**SENT, 9:27pm** \- Tell me. 

**RECEIVED, 9:28pm** \- I misshow you taste and how you smell… I miss that tight pussy and how it felt wrapped around me and I mis so bad how I could makeyou squirt ntil you shook 

I take another big sip of wine, emptying the glass. I get up to refill it, heading back to the couch quickly so I can answer without leaving him hanging. 

**SENT, 9:30pm** \- Jesus, J. 

**RECEIVED, 9:30pm** \- Exactl I miss howI used to make you screamout my name and his… your two favorite guys haha right? 

I tuck a bit of hair behind my ears and try to center myself, but it’s hard. The way he’s talking is seriously clouding my mind, making it difficult for any rational thoughts to find their way through the foggy soup inside my head. 

So, I decide not to try. I decide to go with what I’m feeling and live a little. Anyway, why shouldn’t I tell him the truth? Maybe it’s the wine talking, given that I’ve finished more than half the bottle by myself, but I don’t care. And I kind of love that I don’t care. 

**SENT, 9:32pm** \- I miss that too. I miss the way you felt inside me, and I miss your lips on mine, and your hands all over me… your fingers and tongue working in my body. You made me come harder than anyone. 

**RECEIVED, 9:32pm** \- Fuck yeah baby 

**SENT, 9:33pm** \- I miss how you always worshiped me. How one minute you could be so gentle then the next you’d bend me over and fuck the life out of me. 

I bite my lower lip after sending that last message. The alcohol is getting to me, and I’m letting it. I reread the sentence again and again, not denying the truth of it, but wondering if I should’ve said it. My cheeks must be flaming red. 

**RECEIVED, 9:34pm** \- Jesus chsirst i miss seeing you on your hands and knees baby and i miss seeing that gorgeous O face too… you seriously have the best orgasmr face i’ve ever seen so fucking sexy 

I spend a moment trying to gather myself, and he replies again. 

**RECEIVED,9:36pm** \- So fucking hard right now.. Wanan see?

I don’t waste time pondering. I already know my answer. 

**SENT, 9:36pm** \- Show me. 

Then, he sends a picture. I tap on it to enlarge it, and instinctively look around the room even though I’m alone. It’s too lewd not to check my surroundings. 

He’s not naked, but he might as well be. Pictured is the lower half of his body, specifically his crotch, clothed in gray sweatpants. He’s using one hand to take the photo and, with the other, he’s roughly grabbing his erection. His huge erection, actually. I can’t believe I forgot how big he is. 

I catch myself wetting my lips. Oh my god, I did not just lick my lips. 

We used to send each other nudes a lot when we were married. We never let our sex life get boring. That’s actually the last word I’d use to describe it. Sometimes, I’d surprise him in the middle of the day with a shot of my bra taken in the staff bathroom, then he’d meet me in said bathroom so we could get our urges out of the way. In his case, he liked to send me pictures while he was at work and I wasn’t, just to show me how much he missed me, and how often I was on his mind when I wasn’t around. 

So, needless to say, we’re not new at this. 

**SENT, 9:37pm** \- I’d get down on my knees for that...

**RECEIVED, 9:37pm** \- Fuckkkkkkkk 

**SENT, 9:38pm** \- You want me on my knees baby?

I’m definitely tipsy. Maybe buzzed. Maybe even drunk. I’m not sure. 

**RECEIVED, 9:39pm** \- I wantyou any way I can dgoddamn have you bent over on top doggy style against the wall i dont fucking care i njust need to fuck you 

Realizing that the ball is in my court now, I get off the couch and hurry upstairs to mine and Matthew’s room. I flick on the light, toss the phone onto the empty bed, and rifle through my dresser until I find what I’m looking for. 

I shed the pajamas I’d been wearing and pull on the pair of panties that I found. They’re light pink and lacy, and I haven’t worn them for years. They used to be Jackson’s favorite.

I grab my phone, then stand in the mirror and take the shot - no shirt, only the panties. I use my free arm to cover my chest, though, just to tease him. Then, I send it. 

**RECEIVED, 9:44pm** \- holyfuck 

**RECEIVED, 9:44pm** \- you are so fucking hot 

**RECEIVED, 9:44pm** \- CanI comeover

I want that more than anything. I haven’t had sex in forever - I literally can’t remember the last time - and I need him. Him, specifically. I’ve never gotten this horny for anyone else. 

**SENT, 9:45pm** \- Call a cab. Don’t drive. And be quiet coming in cus H is sleeping.

**RECEIVED, 9:45pm** \- omw 

After reading that message, I run to the bathroom and touch up my shave job. I take my hair out of the bun it had been in and fluff it, running my fingers through it to give it some volume, then put on some mascara. I pinch my cheeks to give them some color - not like I need it, because of all the blushing, and give myself one spritz of his favorite perfume - the perfume I haven’t used since our divorce, Si by Giorgio Armani. 

I light two candles because I feel like lighting any more would be trying too hard, and overwhelming when it comes to smell. Instead, I keep things simple. One on each nightstand. Of course, I had to clear Matthew’s things off of his in order to make room for the candle, but I try not to think about that. 

Once everything is ready, I lie on the bed wearing only the panties and wait. It’s not long before I hear the front door creak open and, while I told Jackson to be quiet, he’s far from graceful as he comes in. I hear his feet clomping around, his keys jangling as they drop to the floor, and a few muttered expletives. I smile to myself, giggling at how he’s rushing, then situate myself one last time as he heads up the stairs. 

When he appears in the doorway, I smile and he does too. “Holy fuck,” he says. “Look at you.” 

“I’ve been waiting,” I say, stretching my arms above my head. He can’t take his eyes off my bare breasts, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. It turns me on even more. 

“I came as fast as I could,” he says, heading to the bed. I sit up to meet him and watch as he glances around, taking everything in. “Where’s…?” 

“On a trip,” I say. “He won’t be back until tomorrow.” 

He nods, smirks, and walks closer, eventually coming to stand between my parted legs. I tip up my head and look at him, and he uses one hand to touch my chin and pull my lower lip down by a fraction. 

“It’s kinda hot that we’re gonna fuck in your guys’ bed…” he says, pulling my lip further. 

I smile even though I shouldn’t and say, “I know.” 

“God,” he says, bringing the other hand around to hold the side of my neck. His fingers are so long that his thumb rests on my throat and the rest of them reach behind my head, cradling my skull. “What are you so motherfucking sexy for?” 

I shake my head and smile wider. “I don’t know,” I whisper. 

My body is buzzing and I’m not sure if it’s from the copious amount of wine that I drank or due to the insane arousal that I’m feeling. Maybe both. Either way, I’m completely overcome and I can’t ignore it anymore. It won’t wait. 

“Come here,” I say, and pull him forward by taking two fistfuls of his dress shirt. He crawls on top of me and wastes no time in kissing me, pressing his lips to mine in a fiery, impassioned manner that lights up my entire being. 

He lowers his body between my legs and, instantly, I lock my ankles around him. His hips start moving as soon we touch, grinding heavy against my core in a way that lets me feel how insistent his erection still is. 

“Mmm, you’re hard,” I say, lips moving against his as he runs a hand down my bare side. 

“All for you, babe,” he mutters, then shifts lower so his mouth is level with my chest. As he moves, the buttons of his shirt scrape my skin and I wince, which makes him look up. 

“Shirt off,” I say, pushing at his shoulders. “It’s hurting me.” 

He lifts up and tries to undo the buttons, but all his drunk fingers do is fumble over them. He can’t get a single one undone. 

“Let me,” I say, starting at the top and trying to work my way down. 

I have the same problem, though. Either I’m more drunk than I thought, or he wore the most intricate shirt in the world on the worst day possible. 

“Fuck it,” he says, then pulls from both sides until the buttons burst and rip down the center. They fly everywhere, making little clicking sounds on the hardwood floor as they roll around and, undoubtedly, under furniture. 

“That’s better,” I say, as Jackson shakes the shirt off of his arms. 

He flips us over so I’m on top, and places his hands on my hips. He squeezes tight before moving his grip up to my waist, holding there while tipping me forward to bring our lips back together. 

“Mmm, I missed you,” he says mid-kiss. “Missed you so fucking bad.” 

I smile as I move to kiss his neck, using my thumb to ghost over his nipple. “I missed  _ you _ ,” I say back, hugging him tight with my thighs. 

“You smell so good,” he says, running his nails up and down my back. I can’t help the shiver that it elicits from me. 

“I put on your favorite,” I whisper, right into his ear. “Armani.” 

“Oh, fuck. You kept that?” 

“I kept everything.” 

His eyes flutter shut as he reaches lower, then gets a good grip on the underwear I put on especially for him. “You did, didn’t you,” he says. “These, too.” 

“Mm-hmm,” I say, cooperating as he takes them off. 

Once I’m fully naked, he bunches the panties into a ball and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. “Mine now,” he says, then stands to remove his pants. 

I wait on my knees, and when he comes back, he sits at the head of the bed. I situate myself on his lap and take his dick in one hand, never breaking eye contact as I stroke him slowly, up and down, watching his face as the feeling washes over him. 

I reach between my legs to use my own wetness as lube, and he twitches in my hand because of it. “Fucking hot,” he grunts, spreading his legs wider. “Jesus, April. Don’t stop.” 

“Mmmm, but I have to,” I say, swiping my thumb over the head one last time. 

He opens his eyes into mine, about to ask why, but I answer the question before he says it. I place one hand on his shoulder and use the other to guide his dick inside me - all the way, buried to the hilt, as I lower myself onto his lap again. 

The whimpering sounds that come from me are totally involuntary. I haven’t had sex in a long time, and my most recent partner… Matthew… is not blessed when it comes to size. I have to readjust to the way that Jackson fills me. 

I spread my thighs as wide as they’ll go and arch my back, wrapping my arms around his neck. He moves his grip to the small of my back first, then finds a place to rest on my ass. He grabs both cheeks roughly and urges me forward, which makes me whine and struggle to catch my breath. 

“You good?” 

I nod shakily, feeling so much at once. “Great,” I sigh. 

“Look at me,” he says, guiding my face so I’ll make eye contact. Once we lock eyes, we both smile, and then get lost in a heady kiss. I open my mouth wide and breathe against him, and as our lips are pressed together, I let my hips start to move on their own. 

Feelings of euphoria wash over me when he hits just the right spot. It’s obvious that he knows where it is, too. When those sparks light up inside me, I throw my head back and expose my neck, which he covers with his mouth almost instantly, licking my throat and collarbone while keeping that good hold on my ass. 

“Jackson,” I moan, digging my nails into his shoulders. “Oh, fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you?” 

“God, yes.” 

“You want this pussy fucked good and hard?” 

“Please, yes, yes,” I breathe, and gasp as he switches our position so I’m flat on my back underneath him. 

Then, he pounds me with a force I’d almost forgotten he possessed. My eyes roll back as his hips slam against mine, making the sound of skin on skin reverberate throughout the room. My mouth falls open and I lift a hand to cover it, using the other to grip his neck and keep a firm hold on reality. 

He stays upright with his hand braced next to my head, and squeezes my breast tight with the free one. As I grit my teeth and breathe harder, he pinches the nipple and tweaks it to the side, forcing more inhuman sounds out of me - sounds that I hadn’t expected. 

He comes first, which I’d expected. He was already close with my hand on him, and kept it up since the picture he sent. When it happens, my head and shoulders slip off the bed as he pumps hard against me, forcing my whole body to scoot upwards, and I only encourage him with my legs locked tight around his waist. 

“Give it to me,” I sigh. 

“You want all this?” he grunts. “You want me all inside you?” 

“Yes,” I say, hair hanging above my head and almost touching the floor. “Yes, yes, yes.” 

With that, he shoots off inside me - long and hard. His hips buck erratically, pushing me even further off the bed, but he holds fast around my waist to keep me from falling. He buries his face against my stomach as his orgasm courses through him, breathing on my skin while emptying all he has inside me. 

“Fuck,” he mutters through the aftershocks and involuntary muscle spasms. “Christ.” 

Without having come alongside him, I reach between my legs and start to manipulate myself. I don’t want to wait long; I wasn’t very far behind. Given how aroused I am, it isn’t hard to find my clit, but he bats my hand away once I start to touch it. 

“That’s my job,” he says, and pulls me up so my entire body is on the bed again. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna get you there.” 

With my arms above my head, he pushes my knees out until they’re spread as far as they can go. He licks me slowly at first, pausing to lock eyes every few seconds, and thumbs my clit rhythmically with one hand. Judging by the movement of his shoulder, he’s using the other to pleasure himself. Seeing me like this, spread open and at his mercy, has always turned him on. 

I can’t help the way my hips move against his face, and he doesn’t try to stop them. I hold onto his head with both hands, scratching his scalp and pulling at his hair, and that only propels him forward. He smiles against me, buried in the heat, and presses a flat tongue against my clit. 

I clench my thighs together, effectively trapping his head, and he keeps pumping himself and licking me. His tongue and hand both start to move faster, and before I can even fully register that I’m there, a body-shattering orgasm crashes through me. I pull at his ears, crying out louder than intended, and he doesn’t stop. He pushes himself up onto his knees, mouth connected to me the whole time, only pulling away once he’s at the right angle to slide inside me again. 

I gasp when he does. I was almost fully down from my first orgasm, but the way he hits my g-spot makes a second start directly after. And he was just about to come, too. So, we climax together and clumsily pull each other in for a sloppy kiss while I orgasm and he comes inside me for a second time. 

After our bodies have stopped twitching, I hold him against me for a long while. He kisses my ear, my cheek, my jaw, my neck, and I rub his back as my eyelids grow heavy. 

“I shouldn’t stay,” he says, and I hear the slur of his words - from both exhaustion and still being drunk, I’m guessing. 

“Mm, no,” I say. “Probably not.” 

Though he says the words, he makes no move to get off of me. I don’t adjust, either. I drag my nails along the back of his neck, trace the shells of his ears, and run the instep of my foot along his calf. 

“I really do miss you so much,” he murmurs, his voice muffled from where’s speaking against my neck, buried in my hair. 

“I know,” I say, cradling his head. “Me, too.” 

We get a little more comfortable. He pulls out and I clean up what I can with a handful of tissues, and we slide under the covers. I welcome him into my arms again, wrapping his broad shoulders in a tight hug, and kiss him softly on the lips. 

“I don’t actually want you to leave,” I whisper. 

He pulls one of my legs so it rests over his side, then runs his hand up and down my thigh. “Me, neither,” he says, kissing me again and again. Just his lips against mine, gentle and caring, once, twice, three times in a row. 

“So, stay.” 

He smiles, eyelids drooping as he does. “I’ll stay,” he says. 

As we fall asleep together, everything feels fine. In fact, it feels great - amazing and wonderful. But what I don’t think about at the moment, and what I’ll have to address when it happens, is the fact that, in a month, Matthew will find those popped buttons from Jackson’s shirt under the bed and ask where they came from. 

And in that same month, the week after, I’ll miss my period. And when that happens, I’ll remember that Jackson came inside me twice in one night, on the day I started ovulating. 


End file.
